


Just Dinner

by tatooinesun



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, awkward family dinner, minor manga spoilers if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6290248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooinesun/pseuds/tatooinesun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has to wear a button up shirt and comb his hair and it's all for Maka's useless dad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Dinner

Soul's been fumbling with this stupid tie for half an hour now, wrapping and circling and hopelessly trying to make some semblance of a knot. Honestly, how pointless it is to tie a strand of fabric around your neck like some sort of fancy decorative noose. The irony isn't lost on him of course - the night to come might as well serve as a death sentence.

He's been dreading this for the past week now, ever since Maka had told him she was inviting over that worthless father of hers for dinner so they could break the big news. They'd been in bed after a serving of his favorite meal and a rather long drawn out _preoccupied_ bath together. In retrospect he realizes she'd been buttering him up, the minx.

"We have to tell him at some point Soul. It's better just to get it out of the way," she'd hissed in the dark, eyes glued on him even though his were directed at the ceiling.

"Yes perfect. Let's go right ahead with my early demise."

"He's not going to kill you." She'd hesitated barely, but it was a split second too long for Soul.

"I'm a goner."

"We'll put it gently."

"A dead man."

She gave him a playful whack. "I'm going to sleep."

He hadn't gotten in a wink of course. Maka's old man nearly had an aneurysm when he'd found out they were dating. As far as Soul was concerned, his days were numbered.

He hears the shower cut off outside his morbid contemplation and he stumbles into the bathroom sporting the misshapen tie around his neck and a hopeless expression. Maka looks up from the mirror where she's combing her damp hair and stifles a laugh.

"You never could get the hang of those."

His smile is crooked as he thinks back to all of the times she's had to do this for him. "Yeah yeah don't shove it in."

She shakes her head, beckoning him forward. He obliges with an insincere huff, allowing her nimble fingers to twirl and tuck his tie into something presentable. The fluffy towel she has wrapped around her body loses some leverage as she maneuvers her arms and he's treated to a brief view of cleavage before she tugs the towel back up with her free hand.

His eyes cloud with desire. A whole year into their romantic relationship and he still loses his cool at even a hint of her skin.

"I have an idea. Let's just cancel this whole thing and go back to bed. Immediately."

She raises an unamused brow and that's the end of that.

The next hour is a chaotic blur of disinfectant spray and baking chicken and honestly Soul thinks they're going to far too much effort to impress a man who essentially lives in a bar. Maka paces in front of the oven, chewing her lip and nervously peering in on the chicken every thirty seconds. She's never been the best cook and they usually live off tv dinners and packs of ramen. He doesn't see why her good-for-nothing dad warrants a cuisine.

Maka's still obsessing over the chicken when a knock sounds from their front door and so she sends Soul to retrieve her dad with a reassuring nod and whispered words that suspiciously sound like 'play nice". When he opens the door to find Spirit standing on their threshold with a cheap bottle of champagne and a shaky nervous smile he almost feels sorry for the man. Almost.

"I brought champagne," he says unnecessarily.

"Yeah. Come on in." Soul stands aside to grant him entry. Spirit clears his throat awkwardly and then proceeds inside, clinging to his champagne bottle like a drowning man. They stand uncomfortably in the tiny foyer for what seems like an eternity before Soul offers, "Maka's in the kitchen."

"Right." Spirit doesn't move.

"So let's go see her," Soul tries again.

Still Spirit remains stationary, crossing his arms over the bottle and staring down the bridge of his nose at Soul with what he can only assume is supposed to be an intimidating glare. It's considerably harder to match his stare when that scowl reminds him so much of Maka.

"You two are still...together then?" It looks like it physically pains Spirit to say the words.

"Er, yeah."

"Right. Okay. That's great," he says through clenched teeth. "If you lay one hand on her you little octopus head-" He doesn't finish the threat but Soul gets the general gist. They've been down this road a million times.

"I only lay a hand on her when she asks me to." He's going to die tonight anyway; might as well press a final few buttons. He watches half amused as Spirit's face turns the color of his hair, nostrils flaring as he sputters for words.

"Why you-"

"Hi Papa." Maka's timing is impeccable and Soul could kiss her if she didn't just shoot him a look that makes him question which Albarn is going to put him in the ground tonight.

"Maka!" Soul forgotten, Spirit turns to his daughter and his arms flinch for half a second, as if he's fighting back the impulse to hug her. Instead he settles on a painfully large grin and Maka gives a small smile in return.

Soul will admit, the two have come a long way over the course of the past few years. Maka's learned to open up and Spirit's learned his boundaries. They'll always have their differences of course and maybe Maka will never forgive him for the damage he's caused but they've reached a stage where they're comfortable trading small talk and watching tv together and that's all they really need at this point.

"The chicken just has a few more minutes," Maka says, taking the champagne bottle from her father and tucking it under her arm. "Can you two set the table?"

"Of course!" Spirit immediately springs to action, as though he's been given a direct order from Lord Death himself. Soul follows him to the kitchen, far less enthusiastically and spends the next ten minutes bossing his girlfriend's dad around the dining room which is far more enjoyable than he'd care to admit.

When the chicken is done they congregate stiffly around the dinner table which is cramp with all the plates and dishes Maka's been slaving over for the past few hours. The table's really meant to accommodate no more than two people so there's an awkward fumbling of legs and elbows as they try to get situated and Soul tallies the numbers of times Spirit apologizes for knocking something at ten. He struggles to stifle a laugh and Maka kicks him from under the table so instead he settles on shoveling a piece of chicken in his mouth to distract himself.

"This is amazing Maka!" Spirit exclaims, already digging into his plate.

It's not that great. The skin is overcooked and it could do with more seasoning but Spirit acts like he's been gifted manna from heaven.

There's a prolonged silence broken only by the clatter of silverware and shuffling of chairs and Soul's stomach plummets because in all the awkwardness he'd forgotten the purpose for inviting Spirit over in the first place and he thinks almost offhandedly that Maka's mediocre cooking is going to be his last meal.

"So," Spirit clears his throat, knee bouncing nervously. "How have you been?"

Maka looks up at her father before setting down her silverware. "I've been a little sick to be honest."

Soul thought the man was going to choke to death on his mouthful of chicken.

"What?" he sputters, eyes widening almost comically. "Why aren't you in bed?! Why aren't you at the hospital?!"

"Don't be ridiculous, it's nothing life threatening. I've just been a little under the weather. Every morning actually." Maka drops the first hint and Soul clenches his hands. Spirit remains oblivious.

"How do you know it's not something life threatening? Are you up to date on all your vaccinations?" He turns on Soul next, practically in hysterics. "How could you let my daughter get sick, you're supposed to take care of her aren't you?"

" _Papa_."

Spirit stiffens. He's treading on thin ice and Soul knows he doesn't want to do anything else to jeopardize the already fragile relationship with his daughter.

Calmly and collectively, he picks back up his silverware. "Right. Just a cold."

Maka nods her head and the meal resumes, albeit with much more tension than before if it's even possible.

"What about you Death Scythe?" Soul says between chews after a while, hoping to sway the conversation if only for Maka's sake. "Keeping busy?"

Spirit narrows his eyes suspiciously but slowly nods his head. "Yeah...Kid- er I mean Lord Death always has lots for me to do."

"How is Kid these days?" Maka chimes in. It's unnecessary, they'd talked to their former classmate and friend just yesterday but Soul knows that Maka's just trying to keep her father preoccupied. Soul feigns interest in the conversation while he picks at his food.

When at last their plates are cleared and soaking in the sink Maka suggests they sit in the living room which is possibly the worst idea he's ever heard because he's all for shoving her dear old dad out the door and calling it a night.

"I'll go get the champagne!" Spirit says brightly. When he disappears into the kitchen Soul turns to Maka with a pointed look.

"You can't have alcohol," he hisses.

"Don't you think I know that? Now is the perfect time to tell him. Gently."

"Sure. You tell him and I'm just going to go outside. Get some fresh air."

"Oh no you don't." She's grabbing Soul by the scruff of his collar when Spirit walks in with the bottle and three glasses. He must get the wrong idea because his face flushes and he looks ready to bolt.

"Champagne?" He offers meekly.

Maka releases her hand from his shirt. "Not for me thanks, I shouldn't have any."

He might as well have been told a puppy died.

"You don't want any of my champagne?"

"No it's not that-"

"It's a little cheap of course, but-"

"Really I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Soul's had just about enough. "Could you be anymore clueless old man?"

"Soul don't-"

He gives his girlfriend a disparaging look and then turns to her father. "She's knocked up!"

Their apartment is as quiet as a church and he sees Maka freeze.

Spirit's brows draw together."Knocked up?"

Soul lets out an irritated sigh that may or may not have been littered with a few expletives.

"As in expecting, as in carrying a child, as in-"

"Papa I'm pregnant."

In retrospect it could have gone a lot worse. There's no shouting or fighting or even a murder. No, Spirit merely lets out a shaky laugh and then proceeds to pass out cold on the floor of their living room. But hey, Soul was still alive and in the flesh. He'd count his blessings where he could take them.

Maka throws her hands up in exasperation as soon as he hits the floor. "I told you to tell him gently Soul."

He shrugs. "He was never going to catch on anyway. It's done now."

"Why do I put up with you?" She shakes her head but he can see the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She leans down next to her father and gives him a gentle shake. "Papa wake up."

He comes to easily enough, takes one look at his daughter and then bursts into tears.

"Oh Maka I'm so happy for you! I'm going to be a grandfather I can't believe it!" He's sniveling into her shirt and Soul watches amused as Maka gives him an awkward pat on the back.

"You're the first to know," she smiles.

Spirit's practically balling with emotion now and surely a racket to any of their surrounding neighbors.

"Alright Papa, let's get up now-"

"You're having a baby I can hardly believe it!"

"Sure am. It's time to calm down now-"

"Have you thought of any names? How far along are you? Do you think it'll be a boy or a girl?"

Soul sees the exact moment when Maka snaps. Her brow twitches and that infamous Albarn scowl returns. "You deal with him," she says, whipping around on Soul. "I'm pregnant and I'm tired and I'm going to bed."

Soul watches her disappear down the hall before slowly turning back to Spirit, ready to bolt should he show any signs of hostility. He finds the man staring up at him with a look that's merely somber and almost wistful.

"Champagne?" Spirit offers, still sniffling slightly.

Soul gulps. "It's not poisoned is it?"

The older man raises an amused brow and Soul sighs in relief.

"Sure. I'll take some of your damn champagne."

Spirit downs his whole glass in approximately thirty seconds with an air of experience. Soul's never much liked the taste of alcohol. He takes a single sip before setting it aside.

He expects an argument, a reprimand, something along the lines of "how dare you knock up my unmarried daughter." It'd be completely hypocritical of course but it's what he thinks is coming. What he gets instead is - "You're lucky you know."

 _This_ , he wasn't expecting, so much so that he merely chokes on the sip of alcohol he's been downing. "What?"

Spirit lifts his glass, suddenly fascinated by it. "I'd kill to go back to this. A girl that loves me, a baby on the way. A future."

Soul doesn't know what to say so he stays silent.

"So don't fuck it up." Spirit's tone is firm now, angry almost and he has Soul's full attention. "Don't do what I did to them. Don't waste what you have."

Spirit's eyes are on him now, his face bearing the most serious expression Soul had ever seen on the man and he feels a sudden unexpected wave of empathy. 

"I...I won't."

"Promise me Soul Eater." 

There's a long vacant pause and then he nods solemnly. "I promise."

  
***

  
Soul sneaks into their bedroom some time later to find Maka awake with a book propped on her lap.

"Where's my dad?"

He pulls back the sheets, sliding into bed next to her. "Drooling on our couch. Don't worry, the blow to the head was clean."

" _Soul_."

"He drank all his wine and then passed out."

She stifles a giggle into her hand. "I feel bad just leaving him there."

"Don't worry he's fine. More than fine, I think we gave him the best news of his life tonight." Maka closes her book and places it on their nightstand before she clicks off the lamp. He curls up behind her, wrapping his arms around her stomach and stroking the life within with a contented sigh. He'd meant what he'd said to Spirit. He wasn't going to blow this. This chance, this family they were starting, it was all he really ever wanted. All he ever _needed_. Spirit was right; he was the luckiest bastard alive. 

"Hey Maka. I love you," he breathes into her hair, burying his face into the curve of her neck. 

"Of course you do." She grins, taking his hand in her own. "But it's nice to hear you say it."


End file.
